


Avoid The Top 10 Dragon Mistakes

by Toffyy



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Fantasy AU, Hijack, M/M, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 06:10:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16826743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toffyy/pseuds/Toffyy
Summary: "There is a war coming, and if anything was to happen to your brothers… you are the last heir left.”Prince Jackson didn't like the idea of being locked up, but he couldn't do anything about it. But maybe he could try being friends with his guard - if only the guard wasn't a deadly dragon, set on killing anyone coming too close.Rating may change.





	Avoid The Top 10 Dragon Mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I planned it for hijack week, but the idea grew and I couldn't write it all in time for October.
> 
> It's been laying useless among my papers and I decided to post it, even if writing next chapters might take a long time (it's not like I have a lot of other unfinished works to update, no sir).
> 
> English is not my native language, so please don't be too harsh, I'm still learning, I swear ;0;
> 
> I had a problem with the title, so I threw the word "Dragon" into a title generator. I wish I could use them all.

His steps were quiet, but it was the quietness of an incoming storm, of a far away thunder; it suited quite nicely the lightning in his eyes, wind ruffling his hair and clothing, making him look like a god of thunder the people of the north worshipped in their pagan ways.

Servants, and even a few guards quickly got out of his way, youngest maids squealing in fear after they saw him, losing their grips on whatever they were holding, or pressing it against themselves defensively, in fear of bringing attention to themselves. Some even hid in the darker corners of the corridor, and on a normal day the young prince may have laughed and even enjoyed the commotion he was the source of. But not today.

The day began like every other - he woke up at sunrise, dressed himself before any servant could help him, and ran to the chapel for a morning mass, impatient for the hunt that would come afterwards; just as he was trying to sprint through the kitchens to steal a loaf of bread, his neck was grabbed from behind, the hold strong and unyielding.

“Fuck! Phil, leave me alone! I didn’t do anything!” He was simply lifted up and dragged out of the kitchen among whispers and quiet laughs, winking at few of the maids who covered their faces and turned away, giggling among themselves. “I didn’t do it, and if I did, in my defense I was drunk- Hey!” He yelped as he was simply tossed into a chamber like a sack of potatoes. Really undignifying for a prince.

“I am glad to see you in high spirits, Prince Jackson.” The low, gravelly voice of his father’s steward filled the air, and Jack quickly got back to his feet, dusting himself off - he felt like a child, waiting for a punishment for not listening to his tutor or ‘borrowing’ his father’s sword. “Unfortunately,” he drawled, amber eyes finally meeting the deep blue of the young prince, “I’m afraid I have an… unpleasant message to relay.”

A full body shiver ran down his body, but Jack tried to keep his head high, just like his mother taught him; still he swallowed hard, trying to keep himself from crossing his hands and playing with the hem of his shirt. Pitch Black knew exactly how to play on people’s fears, and usually Jack could only watch it from afar, hidden behind his mother’s skirts or tucked in a dark corner, listening to nobles talk. 

But when he felt that cold gaze on himself, he could sympathize with the poor souls he saw kneeling, nearly crawling in front of the steward. It made him nearly sick to his stomach. The more he tried to hide his fear, the wider the sharper was the smile of his father’s servant. 

“Your father fell ill.” The words were delivered in a way someone would talk about the weather or latest maidens’ gossip, thrown away like something smelly one wanted to get rid of quickly. “It seems… ah, it seems his days are numbered.”

Maybe he wasn’t close to his father, maybe he was far, far in line to the throne, maybe he saw his father rarely, hardly had the chance to talk to him, raised in mountainous castle far away from the crown city, but he could feel the anger slowly bubbling to the surface, his hands clenched into fists, itching to hurt the man in front of him, throw the offence back into his face. He was powerless, but if there was something he learnt while running around his father’s castle, it was listening to gossip, noticing small things he could later use in pranks that earned him the name of castle jokester until he was sent away from the court. He knew exactly what was the weak point of the steward, and he intended to use it.

“With utmost respect, Pitch Black,” he said, his voice even, though raised by an octave from his usual deep tone, and he noticed those eyes widening in shock, then narrowing, “but I believe you did not come here only to inform me of this. As important as my father’s health is, I am not important enough to have the message relayed to me personally by you. There’s more you want me to know, and it isn’t anything nice. Am I mistaken, Black?” Oh, even if it cost him his head, the way a snarl twisted the unnaturally smooth face was worth it. He hated, despised everyone who omitted his title, who spoke to him like he was lower in hierarchy, lower than a mere knight.

But it was only for a moment; few seconds and it was gone. Pitch straightened himself to his full height, towering over the prince. “I thought all lessons flew through your head, but clearly, there is something left. Yes, there is more to it than that - your father requested, and your brothers agreed, that for your safety you should be kept in a safe place… no, not here. There is a war coming, and if anything was to happen to your brothers… you are the last heir left.” He turned his back to Jack, his stiff robes swishing. 

“Then… where? I’m safe here!” He stepped forward, eyes wide. “There is no safer place I could-”

“There is a castle… a manor… a tower.” Pitch idly went through parchments laying on the table. “A tower where you will be kept safe, away from the battles and court. What you think about it, is irrelevant. In a few days the hideout will be ready for you… Your Royal Highness.”

It was why the usually cheerful prince tried to scare the servants away from the castle, managing even to slam the heavy door to his solar, seething with rage. He would never, never allow them to lock him up, keep him in a cage like some pet - it was enough he was taken away from his mother as soon as he was seven, to never see her again. He wanted to see his sister, his annoying brothers, but now even the rare visits would be gone. 

He would be alone.


End file.
